


It's a fine line

by MistressChoc



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Hard fuck, M/M, Post Reichenbach, Post-Fall, not dead
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-29
Updated: 2013-01-29
Packaged: 2017-11-27 10:34:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/660973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MistressChoc/pseuds/MistressChoc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It hadn't even been an hour since Sherlock had walked through the door of 221B when John had first punched Sherlock in the Jaw. Immediately Their bodies reacted to each other and they could not get close enough. It was a strangely arousing act when Sherlock whimpered in pain mixed pleasure  as John bite hard at the pulse line of Sherlock's neck. Which in turn earned a deep predatory growl deep from John's throat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's a fine line

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by RL friend

John didn't know how it came to this; the harsh frantic kissing, the nails gauging deep marks into each other's naked flesh, the blackening bite marks that littered Sherlock's body and the tiniest hint of blood that stained John's teeth. It hadn't even been an hour since Sherlock had walked through the door of 221B when John had first punched Sherlock in the Jaw. Immediately, their bodies reacted to each other and they could not get close enough. It was a strangely arousing act when Sherlock whimpered in pain mixed pleasure as John bit hard at the pulse line of Sherlock's neck, which in turn earned a deep predatory growl deep from John's throat.

John was mad, furious in fact, but he still loved the consulting detective even if he had not ever acted on those feelings until now. Now he was getting exactly what he wanted from the younger man, slamming the lithe body hard into the walls, causing an 'oof' sound to escape Sherlock's mouth that was otherwise muffled but John's own. Their tongues each fought for dominance as they made their way to the bedroom where John practically threw Sherlock down onto the bed and loomed over Sherlock, his diamond hard cock standing out proud. Sherlock too, could not hide his own arousal in his naked state. 

John grabbed the lube from his bedside table. There was hardly any left, enough to coat his cock but not enough for any preparations. His primal need to sate and be sated was winning over his medical mind to make Sherlock as comfortable as possible. Fuck it, John wanted there to be a bit of pain, albeit it minimum, which John would later be satisfied was not too much. Sherlock deserved it after what he had put John through for the past three years, and Sherlock had no idea how torturous it had been for John to suffer as he had.

Sherlock lay waiting for John, wiggling slightly in anticipation whimpering slightly from the lack of passion and body heat. He soon found himself being pinned down hard into the mattress and assaulted by John's lips again. He moaned and gasped as John bit hard on his left pectoral, then at his stomach and cried out loudly as he felt John break through the skin. John crawled back up crushing their lips together hard as he lined himself up at Sherlock's entrance. Sherlock went wide eyed as he felt John's cock pressing gently at the tight ring of muscle, but was soon lost again as John sank his teeth into Sherlock's long, pale neck drawing more blood. He arched his back and moaned loudly. Gently John lapped up the blood that pooled there, groaning as he thrust into Sherlock. 

There was pain that caused Sherlock to whimper and throw his head back as he gripped the sheets of the bed. John relished the sound and did not stop pushing into Sherlock until he had filled Sherlock entirely. 

"Oh god you're so fucking tight!" John let his head drop to Sherlock's shoulder, which had become hot and sweaty like the rest of his body.   
"John!" Sherlock whimpered when John began to pump ruthlessly into the man below him, grunting loudly. The sound of slapping flesh echoed the room, mixed with the animal noises of the two men.

With every thrust, John showed Sherlock his anger and tears rolled down his face. It confused Sherlock when he opened his eyes as a tear splashed onto his eyelid. Should he not be happy now? No he isn't, he hates me for lying to him. He hates the fact that I was alive when he mourned my death; that I never found a way to contact him in the three years of my absence. Sherlock reached up and wiped the tears away, asking for forgiveness in his own silent way.   
"I fucking hate you," John murmured into a bite that he placed on his shoulder. Sherlock looked down at John, his pale face now flushed and pupils blow wide with lust and desire for the older doctor. 

"I know," he managed to breath. John's eyes locked on to Sherlock's and subsequently softened at the gaze. Through all his anger and hate for what Sherlock had done to him, John would never stop loving Sherlock. John shifted slightly and lifted Sherlock's hips a little so he was able to angle in differently and hit that spot that caused spots to dance in front of his eyes. Sherlock groaned wantonly as he stroked himself in time with John's thrusts. 

"J-John I'm gonna--!" Sherlock cried out, as he came with such a tremendous force that his seed spilled not only all over his hand, but also all the way up to his chin. But John wasn't done yet, so the pace sped up and John was thrusting so hard into Sherlock that he had slid up the bed. To stop himself from hitting the headboard, he braced himself with one arm giving John the anchor that he needed to hammer in and out of him. Sherlock moaned, and shivered under John when John breathed out a warning.   
"Come inside please John," Sherlock begged his lover. The muscles in John's thighs and stomach were cramping from the pace he had set and constantly maintained. His body was screaming at him to stop, but up and up John's pleasure rose as the heat pooled in his stomach, and the hard scratch of nails down his chest were enough to send him over the edge. With one final deep thrust, he emptied himself into Sherlock with a strangled cry of his name.

John collapsed on top of him, his bare, sweaty chest pressed against him. Sherlock gently stroked the doctor's short, sandy coloured hair, that was now dotted with a few greying patches. They were both panting, bloody and utterly exhausted. John let his eyes close, his anger spent.   
"I love you," He whispered before sleep took him. 

"I know," whispered Sherlock, kissing John on the forehead as he, too, fell into a deep slumber, his arms securely wrapped around John.


End file.
